


the one where philip lives

by dearjohnlaurens



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gen, Near Death, Sad at First, blood mention, but gets happy, but he lives sooooo, i wrote this at 4am a few weeks ago while listening to its quiet uptown, ik its kinda shitty, philip gets shot, super short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 02:39:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6034854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearjohnlaurens/pseuds/dearjohnlaurens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>how stay alive (reprise) should have gone</p>
            </blockquote>





	the one where philip lives

Philip’s heart was beating faster than he thought it should be able to. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, an almost comforting sound amid the terror he felt, but hid inside. Philip was a Hamilton with pride, he was defending his father’s honor, even if Philip wasn’t sure he deserved it. The wind buffeted at the two men facing each other, blowing Philip’s long hair in front of his face, and he wished he had thought to tie it back. A random thought, given the circumstances.

Remembering his father’s advice, Philip kept his eyes level with Eacker’s, hoping that the fear was not as evident in his eyes as it was in his mind. Slowly, he raised his gun to the sky, praying that Eacker would follow suit. Yet, Eacker kept his gun aimed directly at Philip’s chest. Philip thought back to asking his father for dueling advice.

_“When the time comes, fire your weapon in the air. This will put an end to the whole affair.”_

_“But what if he decides to shoot? Then I’m a goner!”_

_“No. He’ll follow suit if he’s truly a man of honor.”_

Philip began to doubt the instruction, perhaps Eacker was more of a scoundrel than he previously thought. As he stared into what could quite possibly be the face of death, Philip took a deep breath and nodded, signaling he was ready. The countdown began.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

“Four.”

“Five.”

“Six.”

“Seven-“

And that’s when it happened. It seemed to take place in slow motion. Eacker pulled the trigger, sending a deadly bullet straight for Philip. This was not supposed to happen. He was a goner. In the split second that it took the bullet to reach Philip, he had a bit of a revelation. Well, maybe not a revelation, more of a change of heart, something that could only happen when a man is inches from death’s door. Philip instantly forgave his father for his affair. He realized that everything could be fixed, and that his family’s honor wasn’t worth dying for.  He realized that a duel wasn’t the answer to everything, that violence and fighting wouldn’t solve every problem.

Philip snapped out of it. The bullet him right between the ribs, and he was slammed down to the ground, in agonizing pain. His chest felt on fire, he couldn’t breathe, his vision was blinking in and out. There was distant shouting, but it felt like Philip was underwater, he couldn’t make out any specific words, just frantic screams. In that moment, he missed his mom. He missed his dad. Hell, he even missed his little brothers and sisters.

As Philip laid there, he saw his life flash before his eyes, snippets of memories nearly forgotten. Nine-year-old Philip playing the piano. That one summer they all went away with Aunt Angelica to the countryside, where Philip played with the animals all day. Twelve year old Philip first kissing the cute boy down the street and being surprised by how much he liked it. The nerve-wracking moments after Philip came out as bisexual to his parents, and the relief when they hugged him and cried. Philip learning of his father’s affair, and feeling confused and crushed that his father would be capable of something like that. Philip asking his father for dueling advice.

A tide of regret washed over him as Philip recalled the words of his father.

_“To take someone’s life, that is something you can’t shake. Philip, your mother can’t take another heartbreak.”_

Philip remembered counting in French with his mother as they played the piano, a memory he’d always cherish.

_“Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf…”_

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he gasped, before the world turned black.

 

* * *

 

 

“Where’s my son?! Is he alive?” Philip was awoken briefly by the sound of his panicked, grief-stricken father.

“Pa,” he rasped, catching his father’s attention. “I did exactly as you said Pa. I held my head up high. Even before we got to ten – I was aiming for the sky.”

“I know, I know, shh. I know, you did everything just right.” His father’s word were shaky and devastated, like he was choking back sobs.

“Is he breathing? Is he going to survive this?” Philip’s mother rushed to his side with an anguished cry.

“Mom, I’m so sorry for forgetting what you taught me. We played piano…” Philip whispered, looking into his mother’s despairing eyes.

“You changed the melody every time,” she reminisced tearfully.

“Ha. I would always change the line.”

“Shh, I know, I know.”

“Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf…” Philip and his mother sang together weakly, until she forced a small smile and placed a finger on his lips.

“Save your strength, Philip. You’ll make it through this,” she murmured, gently stroking his hair. “Save your strength, that would be enough…”

Philip felt his eyes involuntarily flutter shut, and the last thing he saw was his father holding his mother close as they sobbed, and his last thought was, at least they’ve forgiven each other.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Philip saw when he opened his heavy eyelids was the familiar wooden ceiling of his bedroom. He could hear his siblings running around downstairs, a sound his ears were accustomed to. Philip moved his hear to the side ever so slightly, and saw his father sleeping in a hard wooden chair brought up from the dining room next to his bed.

Philip braced his hands against the mattress, and pushed himself up into a sitting position, gasping at the excruciating pain in his side, which woke up his father.

“Philip, Philip, lie back down,” he whispered, gently pushing his son back down to the mattress. “You’re still healing. Th-the fact that you’re alive is a miracle... You’re so lucky to be alive right now.”


End file.
